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And it’s happening now.
I open my mouth to answer and nothing comes out. I widen my eyes to see her better and my vision pinpricks. I flex my hands to reach for her and I freeze.
I can’t.
I can’t.
I can’t because four years ago, I couldn’t move. All I could do was watch.
And for the last four years all I’ve done is acted.
But I’ve acted alone.
“Don’t answer that,” she says quickly, berating herself. Not me.
“I – you – you deserve an answer, Lindsay.”
“I deserve more than an answer.”
My heart stops, waiting in my chest for orders.
“Drew, we deserve so much more. Who knew? I didn’t. You really couldn’t stop them. Worse – they made you watch. And then they hurt you, too.” She laughs. It’s the sound of chimes on the wind, the sweet release of relief, the mellifluous tone of someone who has given herself permission to feel whatever she wants.
It’s the sound of fresh rain and old love.
It’s the sound of hope.
I brace myself for the inevitable. Salma warned me that Lindsay might ask too much of me. Might try to extract more than I could give. I always said I could handle whatever she threw at me.
Salma’s wise.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my mouth numb.
“Don’t ever say that again. Now that I know the truth.”
Now that I know the truth.
“Don’t you see?” She’s smiling. Smiling. Why the fuck is she laughing and smiling? Anger and seething I expect.
Not this.
Not ever this.
“See what?”
“You, Drew. You make sense to me.” Her palm flattens over her heart, fingers tickling the base of her throat. “That was the hardest part about what happened to me. The fact that I couldn’t reconcile the man I knew with the man who acted the way you did. You weren’t the same person. But now I understand.” Shallow breaths turn deep as her chest rises and falls, the sound of her inhales and exhales mimicking the ocean behind her.
Her eyes are my moon and stars. “I am so, so sorry for what they did to you.” Even without moonlight, I can see the shine of tears pooling in her eyes. “But knowing the whole truth makes me so relieved.”
Relieved?
“And pissed.”
That’s more like it.
“We’re – you’re – I -- ” A ragged breath turns Lindsay raw and real as a breeze blows her hair across her face, the stray strands not tied up in her pony tail catching in her mouth, shading her eyes for a moment. “For four years I felt like this damaged little thing. The fucked up little girl who no one trusted. Because I – because you didn’t care.”
“Lindsay.” Her name is a vow coming out of my heart, into my throat. “That’s not true.”
